Nanny Who
by Eruanna17
Summary: She was called the Nanny. That's not to say she wasn't called other things as well, but Nanny seemed to fit her best. Her name reflected her heart, her purpose, her passion - caring for children. And so, when she found the lonely Banks children, she knew one thing for certain - they needed a Nanny. Mary Poppins told from her perspective as a Time Lady. Eventual Mary/Bert.
1. Manners

_"Manner may be, and, in most cases, probably is, the cloak of the heart; this cloak may be used to cover defects, but is it not better so to conceal these defects, than to flaunt and parade them in the eyes of all whom we may meet?" - The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, and Manual of Politeness, A Complete Hand Book for the Use of the Lady in Polite Society_

* * *

She was called the Nanny.

That's not to say she wasn't called other things as well, but Nanny seemed to fit her best. It rolled off the tongue easier than Governess or Nurserymaid, and Nurse had come to mean other things besides one who looks after children – plus, it had a medical implication now that reminded her rather too much of a certain other Time Lord who shall remain nameless for now.

He shall remain nameless at the moment because she had resolved not to speak to or of him, even – no, especially in her own mind.

How that man irked her.

Not that it was anyone's business, but in case there are questioning minds, which she believed should be encouraged generally (though there are exceptions, such as polite company, teatime, and any point of interaction with Vogons); he irritated her because whenever he was in her company he alternated trying to dazzle her with cleverness, show off his eccentricity, or brood in silence.

Not only was it a nuisance, but it was exceedingly poor manners.

How did he come up anyway?

Oh yes. His particular preference with Earth. If one could sort through all the rubbish that tumbled out of his mouth, one might believe that he was somehow appointed its sole guardian – simply because he been banished there for a regeneration or so was no reason to lay claim to an entire planet. Especially one that she had spent so much effort on.

Certainly he had saved the Earth a time or two, but what Time Lord hadn't? Most of he had done was meddling, anyway. He might have saved the Earth, but she cared for it, and for its most precious resource.

Its children.

It was her calling, her purpose, the heart of her name.

No matter what ridiculous situations it resulted in (ranging from residing in footwear borrowed from the race of giants in a neighboring galaxy to a mishap that left her in the body of a Newfoundland (what she would have done to that flying boy if she could have spoken!)), she couldn't imagine doing anything else.

Which brings us to the present moment, where she is nostalgic (an interesting phenomenon for a Time Lord, as they can experience nostalgia for both the past and future, or any combination thereof, depending on their timeline), and is reviewing her recorded aliases.

"Matilda, McPhee, Piggle-Wiggle. Aha!" She pauses the screen as the next name appears.

"Poppins, Mary. England, early twentieth century, I believe." A smile tugs at her mouth as memories of the children she had helped, as well as some other… acquaintances wash over her.

"Now, who needs a Nanny?"


	2. Preparations

Chapter 1

_"'A lady is never so well dressed as when you cannot remember what she wears.' It requires the exercise of some judgment to decide how far an individual may follow the dictates of fashion, in order to avoid the appearance of eccentricity, and yet wear what is peculiarly becoming to her own face or figure. No better advice can be given to a young person than to dress always according to her circumstances. If neatness, consistency, and good taste, preside over the wardrobe of a lady, expensive fabrics will not be needed; for with the simplest materials, harmony of color, accurate fitting to the figure, and perfect neatness, she will always appear well dressed." _

_- The Ladies' Book of Etiquette, and Manual of Politeness, A Complete Hand Book for the Use of the Lady in Polite Society_

* * *

"Now, who needs a Nanny?" She asked her TARDIS, which politely responded with a list of families and their preferences.

"There." She pointed, and the screen provided an Edwardian map of London, along with names.

As of 1910:

Children:

Banks, Jane, female, aged 11 Earth years

Banks, Michael, male, aged 10 Earth years

Parents:

Banks, George, Esquire; Banks, Winifred

Residence:

17 Cherry Tree Lane, London, United Kingdom, Earth

Details:

Six nannies engaged in the last four months

Current nanny due to leave in 16 hours

"Them." The Nanny gave a satisfied nod. "They'll do quite nicely."

The TARDIS console began whirring and pinging in an efficient manner (she expected nothing less – she knew how one flew a TARDIS properly, not with alarms and screeching and emergency brakes, heaven forbid), as she adjusted knobs and rebalanced levels

"Traditionalist father works at a bank… a little on the nose, I'd say," A voice commented as she perused the offered information. "Mother's part of the suffragette movement, though. They must make an interesting pair."

There was a polite chime from one of the receiving bays, and the Nanny went over to find torn pieces of paper. Shaking her head, she quickly mended the letter – no, the list of requirements, wiped off the soot, and scanned it.

"Wanted: A nanny for two adorable children." She read aloud, then seriously considered whether she met the remaining requests. "Cheery disposition, kind, no warts (well, those were only prosthetics for the part), play games, fairly pretty, (well, not to boast, but I consider myself to be quite more than 'fairly'), outings, treats, yes, yes, good.

"It's decided then. This is me to a T."

"What about not smelling like funny water, eh?"

The Nanny – no, if she was to be Mary Poppins, she must think of herself as Mary Poppins – Mary spoke without looking away from the list.

"You are aware that any kind of wood, sapient or not, is still capable of burning."

"You wouldn't!" The speaker looked quite mortified, a task rather difficult for the painted parrot that adorned her umbrella handle, but he managed it nonetheless.

Mary considered. While the wooden bird did have a remarkably cheeky way of speaking, the umbrella's ability to control (well, convince and gossip with, more accurately) the Four Winds was rather invaluable.

"I might. Now hush. I need to prepare." With that, she left the room.

As soon as she was reasonably sure the parrot handle couldn't see her, she allowed herself a smug smile. A lady never allowed an adversary to get the best of her – she always kept her temper under firm control, and if the conversation grew too warm, she should either introduce a different topic of conversation or exit gracefully.

Entering her sizable closet, Mary strode purposefully toward the Earth section, carefully classified by era and class, and considered what to wear. The Banks family was well off, certainly, but not extravagant. Something modest, but becoming, was in order. She chose a sensible blue skirt, paired with a crisp, white blouse, suitable to the year and her supposed station, and adorned with a simple red bowtie (to be clear, _she_ thought of it first). Some dark tights and modest heels were next, followed by a warm woolen coat, a loosely knit scarf, and her favorite hat, decorated with cherries and daises. She looked at herself critically in the mirror, then nodded in approval. It would do nicely.

Locating her carpet bag, she checked to be sure that its link to the TARDIS closet was functioning. After placing the things she might need within easy reach, Mary adjusted her hat one last time, pulled on some white gloves, and walked spit-spot back to the control room.

She went through the various controls to ensure everything was in proper order, and set the TARDIS on Hover: Cloud (no stairs), and Invisible. Grabbing her sapient umbrella and ignoring the startled squawk, Mary stepped cautiously outside. The TARDIS-created cloud gave a little, but was otherwise firm. She walked toward the edge and sat down, placing her carpet bag on one side and sticking the umbrella next to her on the other, and checked her make-up. The fluffy white disguise drifted down toward London. Mary always made a point to settle the TARDIS up the atmosphere a bit, so that the landing sound wouldn't be heard. No need to alert everyone in England she was here.

Finally satisfied with her appearance, Mary picked up her dark rain canopy and looked piercingly at the parrot handle.

"Alright, Parry. 17 Cherry Tree Lane. No delays this time, no matter how excited the East Wind gets."

"Just wanted to show you the hurricane before it hit land is all. No need to hold grudges," the parrot grumbled, then opened with a snap.

At first, nothing happened. Mary glanced reproachfully at the parrot, who simply stared back.

"Just give it a moment." The parrot replied to her silent question.

All at once, the East Wind arrived with an enthusiastic breeze.

"There. Told you." The parrot spoke to Mary with a touch of smugness, the addressed the gust. "Told her you were on your way. Ever so distrustful, that one. Now, what's the latest?"

Mary shook her head slightly, turned her feet out in perfect form, and allowed the Wind to carry her off while it gossiped with Parry. As a tiny swirl of air brought the sound of an accordion to her ears, she couldn't help but smile. She was quite ready to start a new adventure.


End file.
